he flies through the air and brings toys to all the good girls and boys

No, not Santa! I'm talking about The Great Pumpkin!!!
You know about The Great Pumpkin, don't you?
Well, this morning, bright and early, we set out for Dawsonville, Georgia, to find it.
Sadly, we had no success in our venture.
It wasn't in the patch of picked pumpkins.
Sure, there were some humdingers there, as you can see above.
But none had wings or were able to fly. In fact, they were quite Earthbound and very heavy. Apparently, they were easily bruised, too, as signs let us know. "You sit on the pumpkin, you must BUY the pumpkin."
We did not not sit on the pumpkins.
And what a gracious many there were! So many sizes, too!
Burt's Farm did not only have the huge, dark orange-skinned versions. Oh, no! The normal-sized pumpkins had a wide variety of appearances. Pale, ghostly green ones! Perfectly shell-pink ones! Green-as-a-cucumber pumpkins! Pumpkins with warts and pumpkins without! Then there were the teeny tiny ones with dark vertical striping!
But not THE Great Pumpkin.
So we all boarded the wagon for a hay ride. Perhaps we might espy The Great Pumpkin amongst the pumpkins in the wild!
Sadly, no such sighting was to be had.
Let me rephrase that. We did see quite a few pumpkins in the wild. Oh, yes! All were the traditional variety with the dark orange shouting its presence on the white sand slopes of the pumpkin homesteads. They were closely guarded by a ragtag crew of scarecrows, some with pigtails, some clad in overalls, even some disguised as crows. There were also two animatronic pumpkins who spoke to us on our travels.
But The Great Pumpkin was nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps it is hiding in the shadows, waiting for the night when it will fly through the sky, rewarding good behavior. Perhaps it is still growing in the wild, gaining mass and volume day by day.
We'll find out in another month or so.
Meanwhile, try to behave until then.

when i get that feeling, i need ...

Okay, so the title is a little misleading, if you're thinking of the Marvin Gaye song. That would certainly be understandable, as that is exactly what popped into my mind when I was trying to think of a title.
But, no.
Actually, I was in dire need of some TLC this weekend and had journeyed to my bff's house to receive some. I had arrived in early afternoon yesterday, ostensibly to share the experience of watching the season premier of one of my favorite television shows.
Instead, her daughter and I busied ourselves at a mall watching a "new mythology" movie and having dinner while her mom was with her bellydancing buddies.
Ah, well, this trip was short notice on my part, not taking into account their usual weekday plans. And I do totally love spending time with my bff's darling daughter! She very nicely filled me in on the background of the characters in the movie, as it had been a while since I saw the first film. (And, no, I have not read the books.)
She also didn't kvetch about missing the previews. Nor did shw complain about where to have our meal. That was good. That was very good. Very relaxing for both of us!
In case you're wondering while I'm meandering around here, yes, we did watch the premier of my tv show. You see, they can record shows through their cable subscription, whereas I cannot. So, when we were all home again, we settled in and watched to two new episodes - yeah! Then, the daughter and I watched almost all of the episodes from last season, as I had missed them. Yeah!!! TLC to the max degree!
Then, today, we set about accomplishing my bff's game plan. First, we bounced on over to the DeKalb Farmers Market in Decatur, otherwise known as the heart of Atlanta. Wow. That place is HUGE and is filled with produce and meats and products from all over the world. Not only that, though; the prices are low, too, better than those I've seen at club markets. I had not been too keen on the idea of going there, but I'm glad we did. I have two types of couscous now, bought at a third of the usual price I've seen, and lovely pomegranates, too.
We even had lunch there - what a deal! The place had a large assortment in both hot foods and salads. The price is by the pound and you take whatever you want, as much of it as you want. I had baked snapper, broccoli, rice pilaf, Indian chicken, sauteed kale, Italian veggies, and an almond-tofu patty. With a bottle of water, the grand total coast was: $5.81. Amazing!
Next, we headed to the northeastern section of Atlanta. The destination was the lovely place shown above. No, it isn't a miniature of the Taj Mahal, but it is a work of love, built using 1,300,000 volunteer hours. The BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir was completed in 2007 (!) in Lilburn. Much, if not all, of the intricate stone carvings were performed in India, then shipped here for inclusion in the ceilings, walls, columns. There are over 34,000 carvings.
A mandir is "a haven for spirituality and a place of paramount peace."
I fully agree.
I could have stayed there for hours, walking barefoot on those marble floors, admiring the statues and sculptures and silence. Soaking it into my pores and my essence. Although we were only there a brief time, I felt as relaxed as if I had been on a beach.
We all know how much I adore that.
I may even have taken a short nap as my bff drove us home again.

with a nod to Ma Bell

I don't know just what brought this joke to mind, but in my mind it is.
It was a joke Mama had told me many, many years ago, when I was a teen.
At the time, she was seeing a man with a great sense of humor and I am sure the joke was his.
Now, I share it with you.

Once upon a time, two brothers, the Red King and the Blue King, ruled on neighboring hilltops. Between their kingdoms, in the valey, were cannabilistic savages known as the Yellow Fingers. These savages prevented any passage of personnel from one kingdom to the other, and for a while, that was fine.
The Red King became old and knew he was dying. He wanted only to see his brother, the Blue King, one more time.
But how to get the message to that kingdom?
The Red King called his knights to his side. "I must get an urgent message to the Blue King. Who will serve as the bravest knight and carry the message to my brother?"
The tallest of the knights stepped forward and accepted the quest. He suited up, mounted his horse, and off he galloped!
"Aiiyyy! Owwww! Arrrgggghhhhhh!" Those were his last words as the cannibals devoured him.
The Red King was crestfallen. What to do?
But his men were undaunted. One by one, ove the next few days, they took on the mission. One by one, they became meals for the cannibals in the valley. They even tried going in pairs, in quartets, with different types of armor, on different types of steeds, all to no avail.
After the loss of his last knight, the Red King was incredibly sad. Not only had he lost his last man of honor, but he was doomed to die with no last glance or speech with his brother.
Just then, one of the red-clad pages came timidly forward.
"Sire, I will be glad to try to get your message to the Blue King."
What? Was the old king's ears deceiving him? How could this simple Page have any chance of success when his brave knights had met with such a horrible fate?
Still... what choice did he have?
So, he allowed the Page to sally forth, on foot, from the Red Kingdom.
The Red King listened after the Page departed. And listened.
And heard no cries of pain! Heard no screams for mercy! He heard no sounds at all!
The next day, the Page returned, this time as part of the Blue King's retinue, having convinced the neighboring kingdom of the sincerity of his message.
Success!!!

And the moral is:
Let your Pages do the walking through the Yellow Fingers.

hahaha!

gifts from the past

As I said yesterday, I've been going through some old stacks of stuff around the house, trying to whittle them down, file them away, move them out.
Along the way, I found some gift cards I had "safely put away" and promptly forgotten about, years ago.
Years ago.
That bears repeating.
You see, these cards go back to 2005.
Most of these gift cards were promotional items given to my ex, from one radio station or another.
I had fully expected to find that the cards were too old to be redeemed.
Nope!
Earlier this month I took the $5.84 balance out to the Cracker Barrel and had a very nice grilled rainbow trout dinner, as well as enough left for breakfast the next day. That card balance paid for at least half of my dinner - no, wait, I can look it as buying my dinner and that I only paid for my breakfast.
What a bargain!

This morning, I finished off the treats puchased with the Starbucks gift card. I had been downtown on Friday for a NK! dinner in a newly opened patio on Bay Street. Afterward, I bounced over to redeem my card, thinking a bit of dessert and mayber some breakfast goods.
Score! The Marshmallow Dream Bar was consumed, at a leisurely pace, at the coffee shop. What a nicely turned rice krispies treat!
I also purchased two slabs of pumpkin bread, each in their own paper bag to retain freshness. Did I mention that these were slabs of pumpkin bread? Yes, yes, I did. I had one for breakfast two days ago, along with some Canadian bacon. This morning, I repeated that tasty breakfast. Yum!
Maybe I have more gift cards languishing unused. I'll go look!

if not for a nail

To think I almost missed it tonight.
If not for the folks at the Congress Street Social Club, there might not have been a coupon.
If not for the Sand Gnats, I might not have had the coupon for the free appetizer.
If not for the coupon's looming expiration date, I might not have decided to use it.
If not for the SCAD Cinema Circle bringing one of my favorite films last night to the Trustees Theatre, I might not have been downtown.
If not for my long-time infatuation with Harrison Ford, I might not have gone to the film at the Trustees Theatre.
If not for my general ennui yesterday, I might have been downtown earlier to redeem the coupon prior to the film.
If I had been downtown earlier, I might have missed running into an ex-Chili Pepper and current PFS fan.
If not for him having a gig that evening at the Social Club, he might not have been there.
If not for him eating dinner there near the door as I walked in, I might not have seen him.
If not for our mutual friendship with the peace Guy, he might not have spoken to me.
If not for our mutual friendship with the PFS guy, he might not have mentioned the special screening scheduled for tonight at the Sentient Bean.
If not for my long-time infatuation with Paul Newman, I might not have been interested enough to go there tonight.
If not for Wash Plus closing early tonight, I might have been washing clothes too late for me to go to the PFS film.
If not for the PFS guy not being the best at getting the word out, the site might have been too crowded for me to find a seat.
If not for the special blue PFS passes given to me by the other Joe, I might not have had the cash needed for the ticket tonight.
If not for me giving a giant movie poster to the other Joe, he might not have given me the special blue PFS passes.
If not for the fundraiser at the Lucas Theatre, I might not have had the giant movie poster.
If not for my love of the title song of "Singin' in the Rain", I might not have been at the Lucas Theatre and run into the other Joe.
If not for my love of the indomitable JinHi, I might not have been such a generous supporter of the fundraiser.
If I had not lost all of my bids at the silent auctions of the fundriaser, the theatre might not have decided to reward me by giving me the giant movie poster of that night's film.
If the other Joe had not been a kind soul and new to town and a fan of that film and of movie art, he might not have agreed to take the giant movie poster (for which I have no available wall).
Whew!
If not for that string of events occuring in just the right order, I would not have been where I needed to be tonight.
And I would have missed the 1972 film, produced and directed by Paul Newman, adapted from a play titled, "The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds".
The film I had never seen, but I had read the book, oh so many years ago.
The story is even referenced by Leonard to Penny on the award-winning television show about physicists, "The Big Bang Theory".
A film about nuclear radiation and Cobalt-60 and gamma rays.
On a night when I've been writing a test for my students to take tomorrow night, a test about those very things.

Life is strange and beautiful, just like those mutated flowers.

three funerals and a baby

This past thirty days has been quite trying, but I think life is on the upswing again.
Just past midnight this morning, a new little life came into this world - and they call her Miley. No, not that former Disney-show singer. This dear girl is the daughter of one of my travel companions in Italy last year. In the thank-you card for the above baby shower gifts, she wrote: "It was so nice to see your sunshine again!
And justthatfast, my life is better. Sunshine from friends to light my way!
I have to remember to share my sunshine more often.
There have been such dark clouds of late.
Just this week, I attended the third funeral of less than a month's time. My outlaw Bunny's father-in-law, Guerry, had died on Friday of last week. For love of Bunny and Steve, I attended the funeral, though I had missed the visitation. I'm glad I was there, as it meant so much to them that I came from Savannah for the service. I didn't ever know Steve's dad, but from the minister's kind words and remembrances, he sounded a lot like my father. The music on that blue-sky day was especially nice, too, featuring only two songs: "His Eye is on The Sparrow" and "Beulahland". Both are positive messages.
The same cannot be said for the songs at other funerals.
Exactly one month ago, I attended the funeral of Barbara's sister, Margie, dead at 58 years old from cancer. At her service, her minister tried to hold a "come to Jesus" meeting at the end. What a distraction from the loss of this woman.
I had written about being there for my friend, sharing my sunshine and support and solace. The experience has been on my mind greatly since then, accentuating my aloneness as it did hers. Notice, I said "aloneness", not "loneliness". They are definitely two very different concepts (which I may address more expansively in the future).
A week after that funeral, my stepbrother was admitted to the hospital again and was there for most of the week. The lung cancer was advancing much faster than had been anticipated. They determined that naught could be done to help him and sent him home, only to have him return in less than two days. The next time he went home, hospice came along. They weren't there long. He died just a few days after that return, but he died where he wanted to be - at home.
My friend Barbara attended the visitation, at the same funeral home as her sister's had been just three weeks earlier. It was good to have her company for the brief half-hour I had there (before obligations to 41 students required me to leave). My library friend also came to the visitation, but too late to see me.
Somehow, the visitation and funeral service were scheduled for the one night of the week that I work and that I have worked for twenty years. I would have hoped my stepsisters would have taken my schedule into consideration; having it all on a Wednesday precluded my presence there and added a sense of exclusion to my grief. (However, that was the least of Jean and Susan's oversights, as they made several mistakes in the obituary listing for me and my brothers, when a simple phone call or even text message could have prevented them. I guess catholic girl schools don't teach manners.) When I was done with my responsibilities, I was home alone again, no one tending to me.
George's funeral on a Thursday morning was filled with mourning family. As I mentioned just a few days ago, I have a large extended family. Somehow, though, no one thought to ask if I needed someone to come home with me, or to go to their home, so I returned home alone.
Cathy, in San Francisco, had called to console me on Tuesday evening (the 10th) and expressed disbelief that no one was bringing me comfort and comfort foods. My minister, who is also my stepsister's husband's cousin, had not known of George's death until I contacted the church earlier that day; after flubbing the announcement to the congregation of my loss, he did thank me for bringing him the news and hopefully he made it to the visitation. Angel, a friend of my stepbrother's but unknown to me, had given me a nice sympathy card, poem, and hug as I left the visitation on Wednesday (the 11th).
As a final note, on Monday evening (the 16th), I came home from school and a morning spent driving from Jet City (after returning the peace Guy to his new home after his oh-too-brief visit here) to find that the Asbury Angels had left a lovely bouquet and card on my front porch.

Tomorrow, I'll thank them in person and return the clean vase. After all, there are others whose lives need to be brightened by the sunshine of flowers and warm thoughts.

life is a cabaret, redux

I feel so cherished! The wonderful folks with the Savannah Stage Company have always made sure I knew how special I am to them and tonight was no exception. I had scarce arrived when Bryan announced my presence as an original backer of the theatre group, via their Kickstarter campaign. That has been a year ago!

Tonight, one of the fine venues downtown was hosting this song-and-dance fundraiser, supplying an open wine bar and fine finger foods, including three different paninis. Yum! After Bryan's introduction of me, the servers were quite generous toward me and even made sure I knew when the fresh, hot, panini was available.
I made sure I had bids in on quite a few of the silent auctions, but I only "won" one of them. Just as well! Spirits were high and several of the attendees caught the "giving" fever! They were quite generous and the budding group is now funded to bring their live shows to more school children!
Success!

Please note: this is a repeat from my other blog.

chasing daylight

The peace Guy caught a ride into town last Friday. One of our mutual friends had gone up to his city to share a concert. She had stayed overnight with him, then visited another friend. When she returned here, she fetched him along. That gave us both a little time to visit, to catch up in person with the events of the past weeks.
On Sunday, I had returned him to his jet city. I cut short my final afternoon with ocean films to fetch him from yet another round of repairs at his rental apartment. Yet, even with a schedule in place, we ended up on the road a little later than planned.
My intention had been to return him in daylight, with no night driving.
That didn't happen.
Even with the days still having much length, the distance to traverse was easily a full three hours, plus a little extra.
Even driving at my speeds instead of his, the distance was not getting covered quickly enough to keep up with the waning of the sun.
Chasing daylight.
It's a favorite phrase of mine when I'm on the road, traveling as far as I can before night falls, hurtling toward an unseen goal hinted at on a map and road signs.
It's also a good euphemism for life, though, is it not?

where are my glasses?

This one is courtesy of my outlaw Bunny's mom. She is so good to me!
**** **** **** **** ****

Yesterday my daughter e-mailed me again asking why I didn't do something useful with my time.

Like sitting around the pool, golfing, and drinking beer is not a good thing?

Talking about my "doing something useful" seems to be her favorite topic of conversation.

She was "only thinking of me" and suggested I go down to the senior center and hang out with the guys.

I did this and when I got home last night I decided to teach her a lesson about staying out of my business.

I e-mailed her and told her that I had joined a parachute club.

She replied, "Are you nuts? You are 73 years old, and now you're going to start jumping out of airplanes?"

I told her that I even got a membership card and e-mailed a copy to her.

She immediately telephoned me, "Good grief, where are your glasses? This is a membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club."

"Oh man, I'm in trouble again. I really don't know what to do! I signed up, and paid for, five jumps a week."

The line went quiet and her friend picked up the phone and said that she had fainted.

LOL!

elephants, horses, and falcons

Alex, what are student film topics at the Gray's Reef Ocean Film Festival?

Seriously, those were the topics of three of the student films on Saturday.
There were also two films about the Okefenokee Swamp, one about abandoned theme parks, three which were swamp or marsh related, and two about marine lifeforms.
Yep, you heard right.
Of the eleven films accepted for screening at this ocean film festival, only two were directly about life in the ocean.
Pretty open-minded, right?
I certainly thought so.
The day began with a short: "TAGGED-YOU'RE IT!". The title says it all. To study the different species of fish that use Gray's Reef, some of those fish are tagged. Those fish then become the representatives for their species, allowing documentation of the importance of the reef to their existance.
Cool!
Then, "A Penguin's Life", originally slated for Friday, was at last screened. Yeah! How very nice to see the story from the young penguin's perspective! And, as on Friday, Greg Marshall was there to answer questions and encourage interest in the world around us.
Magnificent!
The next two films concerned oysters. Not a very glamorous topic, you say? Then perhaps you should view "Lifeline: A Chesapeake Oyster Documentary" and "Shellshocked" to become not only better informed, but an advocate for these mollusks which clean water more efficiently and effectively than our machines do.
Wondering how to help local oyster beds? Check out the G.E.O.R.G.I.A. program at the Savannah Marine Extension Service on Skidaway Island. Recycle those oyster shells - they'll help!
The next two hours were devoted to the student films. Lots of proud parents, lots of anxious filmmakers, and an audience eager to view! As I had said, these films covered a mixed bag of topics.
"Finding Sanctuary" concerned the plight of elephants which had been abused and worked nearly to death before their refuge was created in Thailand.
"Eternal Darkness" warned of the problems created when overzealous homeowners build long docks which block the path of dead marsh grass.
"Overgrown Kingdom" took us on a visual tour of deserted theme parks, now reclaimed by nature.
"Okefenokee: The American Amazon" and "Okefenokee: The Land of Trembling Earth" both introduced newcomers to the vast swamp in southern Georgia. My maternal grandparents lived near that swamp with its cypress knees and sweet-tea stained waters.
"We Easily Forget" sought to leave a video record of the flora and fauna of tidal marshes.
"Cheek By Jowl" had the interest of alligators at heart as it painted its picture of animals which look prehistoric but are not naturally vicious.
"My Side of the Falcon", by Marc Murano, was about the hobby, and new love, of a retired military man. Told by his loving wife to develop a hobby, working with raptors was the key to his sanity...and hers.
"Back On Track", by Kara Colvin, showed us aging racehorses gaining a second chance at life, in pastoral settings.
One film, "The Dolphin Project", reminded me of a gift given to me for my 40th birthday, a gift I had not yet redeemed. Named for the organization it documents, the film encouraged participation in working to save the dolphins native to this region of the low country. (When the weather warms again, remind me that I want to do this.)
The final film exhibited was also the first-place winner. "OCEARCH" followed the exploits of a crew hunting, and tagging, great white sharks, in an effort to learn more about their habits. Very interesting!
I stayed for the announcement of the winners, then I was off to retrieve the peace Guy from my house. Off we went to meet others for tacos and roasted marshmallows, then to Muse Arts Warehouse to view the six ten-minute masterpieces created for the finale of the Late Summer Night's 24-Hour Play Festival.
The night continued on as we helped Deborah celebrate her sweetie's birthday, first at the Crystal Beer Parlor, and then on to River Street for dancing and singing at Chuck's.
Sanity mostly restored...nice!
And the Ocean Film Festival will roll in for three more screenings tomorrow.
And I will be there to wiggle my toes in its surf!

island of sanity

This weekend has been the Grays Reef National Marine Sanctuary Ocean Film Festival. Actually, it began on Thursday, with several films and a question-and-answer session at the Jepson.
Of course I've been there for it.
It's free, it's fun, and it's informative.
I look forward to it every year and have attended annually since 2007.
This time, it was my island of sanity.
I've kept my eye on it, steadily, as I tread dark waters lately.
You know how very hard life has been recently.
I needed desperately to have a respite from all of that sadness and stress.

As I was saying, the first day was Thursday and I had listed the events here. I sat in the front row, to allow complete immersion in the films. "Oceans at the Tipping Point: Ocean Health Index" was informative and hopeful and narrated by Harrison Ford. (I had thought it was here that I had waxed rhapsodic about Harrison Ford, but it must have been on facebook.) The film acknowledged that many factors must be considered, included differences in marine law and the value of economic impact for all countries on this planet. Every American should see this. We are not the only country in the world. For more information, go here.
A serious piece, it was follwed by a whimsical short, titled "The Majestic Plastic Bag". The deep voice of Jeremy Irons, with a serious tone, opined about the fates of plastic bags as they struggle to make their way to the Great Pacific Garbage Patch in the sky...I mean, in the ocean. Nice bit of levity!
Then the feature film began. "Plastic Paradise: the Great Pacific Garbage Patch" naturally segued from the short. The filmmaker (an erstwhile news reporter) was there, too, to answer questions about her work. And quite a few questions there were! This film was designed to encourage us to take our cumulative small steps (i.e., reach for the cloth tote, buy fewer goods in plastic packages, reuse, recycle) to collectively make a change for the good of these blue seas that surround and support us. The little theatre was SRO (standing room only), so at least a lot of folks heard the call. I can only hope those folks weren't already choir members.
Friday, I was at the Lucas Theatre, eagerly anticipating the new penguin film. "A Penguin's Life" focused on the lives of the young ones, those less than a year old when time came for the migration. There was to be a Q&A at the end with filmmaker Greg Marshall of crittercam fame.
Instead, a flash storm resulted in a power outtage just prior to the evenings line-up. Those of us who had braved the rain had gamely waited for almost two hours for the power to be restored. The theatre finally had lights...but not the power for the projectors or sound system. Instead, Greg agreed to go ahead with the Q&A session - and quite graciously, and charmingly, did so for the next hour, answering questions from kids and grown-ups. Wow! And he agreed to do so again for the rescheduled showing of the film on Saturday (yesterday). Incredible!
More on that when I return... I promise!
For now, I'm running late for today's films. Bye!

His eye is on the sparrow

My fsil's mother sent this to me today. it isn't the first time she's done so, but the timing is the key on this occasion. I don't know if it's true or not, but it is a lovely tale. I did track down the copyrighted story, as written by the songwriter John Thomas Oaks.

* * * * * * * * *
The SPARROW at STARBUCKS - The song that silenced the cappuccino machine.

It was chilly in Manhattan but warm inside the Starbucks shop on 51st Street and Broadway, just a skip up from Times Square. Early November weather in New York City holds only the slightest hint of the bitter chill of late December and January, but it's enough to send the masses crowding indoors to vie for available space and warmth. For a musician, it's the most lucrative Starbucks location in the world, I'm told, and consequently, the tips can be substantial if you play your tunes right.

Apparently, we were striking all the right chords that night, because our basket was almost overflowing. It was a fun, low-pressure gig - I was playing keyboard and singing backup for my friend who also added rhythm with an arsenal of percussion instruments. We mostly did pop songs from the '40s to the '90s with a few original tunes thrown in. During our emotional rendition of the classic, "If You Don't Know Me by Now," I noticed a lady sitting in one of the lounge chairs across from me. She was swaying to the beat and singing along.

After the tune was over, she approached me. "I apologize for singing along on that song. Did it bother you?" she asked.

"No," I replied. "We love it when the audience joins in. Would you like to sing up front on the next selection?" To my delight, she accepted my invitation. "You choose," I said. "What are you in the mood to sing?"

"Well. ... do you know any hymns?"
Hymns? This woman didn't know who she was dealing with. I cut my teeth on hymns. Before I was even born, I was going to church. I gave our guest singer a knowing look. "Name one."

"Oh, I don't know. There are so many good ones. You pick one."

"Okay," I replied. "How about 'His Eye is on the Sparrow'?"

My new friend was silent, her eyes averted. Then she fixed her eyes on mine again and said, "Yeah. Let's do that one." She slowly nodded her head, put down her purse, straightened her jacket and faced the center of the shop. With my two-bar setup, she began to sing, "Why should I be discouraged? Why should the shadows come?"

The audience of coffee drinkers was transfixed. Even the gurgling noises of the cappuccino machine ceased as the employees stopped what they were doing to listen. The song rose to its conclusion.

"I sing because I'm happy; I sing because I'm free. For His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me."

When the last note was sung, the applause crescendoed to a deafening roar that would have rivaled a sold-out crowd at Carnegie Hall. Embarrassed, the woman tried to shout over the din, "Oh, y'all go back to your coffee! I didn't come in here to do a concert! I just came in here to get something to drink, just like you!"

But the ovation continued.. I embraced my new friend. "You, my dear, have made my whole year! That was beautiful!"

"Well, it's funny that you picked that particular hymn," she said.
"Why is that?" I asked.

"Well," she hesitated again, "that was my daughter's favorite song."
"Really!" I exclaimed.

"Yes," she said, and then grabbed my hands. By this time, the applause had subsided and it was business as usual at the cofee shop. "She was 16. She died of a brain tumor last week."

I said the first thing that found its way through my stunned silence. "Are you going to be okay?"

She smiled through tear-filled eyes and squeezed my hands. "I'm gonna be okay. I've just got to keep trusting the Lord and singing his songs, and everything's gonna be just fine."
She picked up her bag, gave me her card, and then she was gone.

Was it just a coincidence that we happened to be singing in that particular coffee shop on that particular November night? Coincidence that this wonderful lady just happened to walk into that particular shop? Coincidence that of all the hymns to choose from, I just happened to pick the very hymn that was the favorite of her daughter, who had died just the week before? I refuse to believe it.

God has been arranging encounters in human history since the beginning of time, and it's no stretch for me to imagine that he could reach into a coffee shop in midtown Manhattan and turn an ordinary gig into a revival. It was a great reminder that if we keep trusting him and singing his songs, everything's gonna be okay.
* * * * * * * * *

Good message. Hopeful, too.

That message was reflected at the funeral today, too, as was... this song.
Coincidence or reinforcement of content?
I had started this post prior to the funeral and had no idea which songs, if any, might be part of the ceremony. This last paragraph was added as a postscript after Guerry's service was done.
Thank you to my angels.
i thank You, God.

cremains and pageantry

Yesterday was pretty damned surreal.
In the dictionary, surreal is defined as "having the disorienting, hallucinatory quality of a dream".
Yesterday was very much surreal.
First thing in the morning, it's off to Greenwich Cemetery for the burial of my stepbrother's cremains.
I must admit, I don't see the point of burying ashes and fragments of burned bone. I really don't.
I can understand the desire of folks wanting a place with a headstone to come visit now and again. I most assuredly can.
But why must the little box or vase containing the bits and pieces be buried?
I do not know.
So, there I was, in the sunshine of a blue sky day, waiting with family for the little wooden box to be placed into the little hole in my stepdad's plot. Sharing hugs, holding hands, swatting at mosquitoes.
That last bit seemed a bit surreal, right there. Such a solemn gathering to mark the end of a life - and yet, there we were, all swatting at biters and scratching itchy red welts on arms and necks and legs. We might as well have been in a marsh, digging for crabs. The scene was definitely askew.
After the short ceremony, we all went our separate ways. I returned home.
I had thought I might go out to lunch, but I did not. In fact, I finished off the taco rice I had made for dinner a couple of nights before. Taco rice? Yeah, it's something the OriWhiGirl had turned me onto when I had gone with her to Okinawa in 2004... or was it 2005? No matter. The dish is super easy and very tasty: rice piled into a plate, then topped with taco filling (meat with tomatoes, salsa, spices), then topped with shredded lettuce and shredded cheese. Good comfort food!
I had omitted the lettuce, as I am not keen on that vegetable. The dish was still quite tasty and was even better this second time.
I spent the afternoon working around the house, awaiting the evening's outing to the onset of the Ocean Film Festival. The peace Guy called: he was thinking of returning here tomorrow by catching a ride with the film teacher. Any possibility of me returning him to Jet City on Sunday?
YES!!! Oh, fabulous! I would have him here this weekend to brighten my days!
Then time had arrived to bop downtown for the two films and two shorts from the folks at Gray's Reef National Marine Sanctuary. I put everything else out of my mind and concentrated on the here and now, welcoming the diversion from the earlier events and stress of this week. I sat in the very first row, achieving a near-IMAX experience in the small theatre. And, oh, how very lovely and how thought-provoking and what a definite distraction! After the spotlight film on the plastic-filled gyre in the Pacific Ocean, the film-maker held an extended question and answer session. Very educational!
Afterward, I had a bit of time before my next scheduled event, so I walked over to City Market and window shopped a bit. Not wanting to spend any money, I thought the safest place for me was Ellis Square, the great lovely park above the underground parking garage. Ah, very peaceful! Just the sound of the splashing, upward-thrown, streams in the play fountain was so very calming!
In about an hour, I strolled over to the 2013 Miss Savannah Pride Pageant. The evening gown competition, question and answer segment, and talent show would be performed before the live audience and a panel of judges. This was a drag show that was serious and the five contestants would receive a massive crown and the title for one year.
And about halfway through the talent show it occurred to me: this was happening on the same day that my stepbrother's ashes were buried. Not only was this happening on that same day, but I had chosen to be here for this event.
But of course I had.
I had been planning to attend for well over a month, after receiving a personal invitation from my dear Blair Williams. Blair and I both attend the same church, both enjoy singing and dancing to rock and roll music and showtunes, and both used to attend the monthly lesbian potluck dinners that once were regular events and now are rather rare. Blair had invited me and I had accepted and so I was there.
Surreal.
But after midnight, everything was gonna be alright... and it was, too. Trixie won the competition, as I had hoped she would. For her talent, she had performed a song and dance from "Hairspray" and had been spot-on as Tracy, the teenager who just wanted to be able to dance with anyone, regardless of color or anything else.
How appropriate, right???
A good way to start a new day, too.

ocean film festival begins!

Please note: I have lifted this from the website for the Gray's Reef National Marine Sanctuary. This is my agenda for this evening - hope to see you there!

Thursday, September 12
6:30 - 8:45 pm
Opening Night, at the
Telfair Museums' Jepson Center
207 W. York Street, Savannah, GA

6:30 - 6:50 pm
Your National Marine Sanctuaries: NOAA National Marine Sanctuaries

A short introduction to America's national treasures: Our 14 marine sanctuaries.
Gray's Reef National Marine Sanctuary: NOAA National Marine Sanctuaries
The short film TAGGED-YOU'RE IT! takes viewers beneath the surface of Gray's Reef National Marine Sanctuary, and reveals how researchers are using technology to learn more about the habits of the fish species that spend time in the sanctuary.

6:50 - 7:15 pm
Ocean's at the Tipping Point: Ocean Health Index, Narrated by Harrison Ford

A video about the Ocean Health Index, won first prize in the Innovations and Solutions category at the Blue Ocean Film Festival. Through images of marine life in the deep blue sea and of cultures sharing an intimate connection with the ocean, this film illustrates how preservation of our oceans, shorelines, mangroves and marshes directly affects our livelihoods, including our jobs and local tourism in addition to the biodiversity of these treasured ecosystems.

7:15 - 7:20 pm
The Majestic Plastic Bag: A Blue Ocean Film - A Heal the Bay Production

An exploration into the life cycle of an illustrious creature, this short film follows the plastic bag on a mighty journey to its home, the Pacific Ocean.

7:20 - 7:30 pm
BREAK

7:30 - 8:30 pm
Plastic Paradise: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch : Journalist and filmmaker Angela Sun

Thousands of miles away from civilization, Midway Atoll is in one of the most remote places on earth, and yet it's become ground zero for The Great Pacific Garbage Patch, syphoning plastics from three distant continents. In this independent documentary film, journalist/filmmaker Angela Sun travels on a personal journey of discovery to uncover this mysterious phenomenon. Along the way she meets scientists, researchers, influencers, and volunteers whom shed light on the effects of our rabid plastic consumption and learns the problem is more insidious than we could have ever imagined.

8:30 - 8:45 pm
Q & A with independent filmmaker Angela Sun

Angela Sun is a television host and journalist with a passion for storytelling and love for the oceans. Her call for adventure has led her to field research on the Great Barrier Reef and a survey of the coral reefs of the Andaman Sea. An avid surfer and scuba diver who loves to chase stories, sharks, sunsets and surf around the world, she has produced/hosted a suite of sports and travel shows on a popular television networks.

light for the way

I was going through some of the papers in the bag from the funeral home. I no longer wanted that bag, with its remembrance of Mama's death, and wanted it out of my life. The bag had been passed along to me after my stepdad's death.
Death, death, death.
So, I'm reading the book the funeral home had given to our family. The book contains the signatures of folks present at the visitation, signatures of folks present at the funeral, names of those who had sent flowers.
Sigh.
Tucked in with all of that sadness was this poem. I copied it when I wrote to my youngest brother in north Georgia and thought I was done with it.
Then I thought I might want to keep it handy.
So, here it is.

*** *** *** *** ***
What God Hath Promised

God hath not promised
Skies always blue,
Flower-Strewn pathways
All our lives through;
God hath not promised
Sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow
Peace without pain.

But God hath promised
Strength for the day,
Rest for the labor,
Light for the way,
Grace for the trials,
Help from above,
Unfailing sympathy,
Undying love.

by Annie Johnson Flint

anchors aweigh, dear George

Like myself, George was a former member of the United States Navy. As such, I know he would have appreciated having that song linked to memories of him, especially these lines:
"Anchors aweigh, my boys, anchors aweigh,
Farewell to college joys, we sail at break of day-ay-ay-ay,
Through our last night on shore, drink to the foam,
Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home."

He was the carver of the turkey at Thanksgivings when my mother and his dad were still alive and the whole family would gather for the feast and to watch the Detroit Lions lose. Sometimes the Lions would win, usually not. But George could always be counted on for a few ribald jokes in the carport while he had a smoke or two.

He was the carver of the ham at Christmas Eve buffets where first food was demolished, then wrapping paper on gifts for the many grandchildren the blended family gave to my mother and his father. Between him and his two sisters and my three brothers, there were eleven grandchildren by birth (Stephen, Christina, Damon, Jason, Zach, Jean Marie, Emily, Michael, Hope, Zaida, and Molly), one by adoption (Tyler), and three steps (Christy, Clint, and Chelsea). Incredible wealth of love and joy!

He always had a ready hug and a quick bit of humor. That will be sorely missed. For one of the last times that I saw him, I had made sure to bring a joke of my own. Of course, it wasn't the deep sea blue flavor he really enjoyed, but it was one he could readily share with anyone near. I'm sure he did, too.

Lung cancer has cut his life short. He would have been a speed limit himself, 65, next month.

I will miss his mischievous, little boy smile. I will miss the glint of an inside joke peeking out of his eyes.
I will miss him.

poor little tigers

Before the events recorded in yesterday's post, the following transpired. As I had really enjoyed the "company" that morning, here's the transcript from our texting to and fro.

5 Sept, 10:19 PM:
ex: Scott has already invited me to see Atlanta play in Detroit if they both go to the world series. High hopes, huh? :-)

me (the next day, 10:11 AM): Scott certainly has high hopes for the Braves, as he does every year. How ARE the Tigers doing?
ex: Wednesday night, the BoSox took them into a dark alley, mugged them and left them for dead. 20-4
me: OUCH.
me: What a drubbing.
ex: Yeah, I was at my favorite bowling alley with the Michigan craft beers that night. A beating that bad needs police involvement.
me: Hahaha! Maybe there was. Can u imagine how the fans wanted to storm the dugout? Ug-ly, with a capital UG.
ex: A lot of camera shots of Detroit skipper Jim Leyland looking UNhappy. He's pretty dog-faced to begin with, so just imagine THAT sight.
me: Hey, i am trying to eat breakfast here! lol! While I am thinking about it, did you get a chuckle about SCAD wanting to send you a check?
ex: Chuckle, hell. I'll jump up and kiss anybody that wants to just give me money out of the blue. :-)
me: Heard THAT. I'll get my first paycheck since May @ the end of the month.
ex: Don't they give you the option of spreading out your money over the entire year?
me: No. And as i am back to Adjunct status, the pay is roughly 1/3.
ex: Aw f&ck. I didn't know. I know you didn't want tenure track and the crap that goes with it. You going to be okay?
me: I will. i hope. May apply for advisor job there, i think i would like it. but i prefer to teach.

me (about 20 minutes later): Christina called and i didn't know how to talk and text simultaneously. Can u do that?
ex: I can but I don't know is *your* phone supports it. My Android does.
me: Oh, you did NOT go there! Everyone picks on my phone.
ex: I hit the back button while I'm in a call, then just go to the text area.
ex: I did not pick on your phone. I don't even know what kind of phone you have.
me: Maybe mine does that. will check it out. That 1st niece says "the 1980's called, they want ur phone back." just because it's a flip style.
ex: Like she'd know. In the 80's, cell phones looked like combat walkie talkies and cost God-knows-what per minute to use.
ex: That's right, it's not a smart phone is it?
me: No, no, no!
ex: Okay then - Now I'll make fun of your cell phone. :-)
me: No internet on my hip!
me: :-) Well fine. humph. (stomps off in a huff.)
me: Gotta jet! Bye!
ex: Bye! :-)

end transmission: 12:09 PM, in the lobby of the tire store

THAT was fun!

bet yer bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun

I can be such a wienie.
Poor, poor, pitiful me.
Waaah.
That point was driven home for me while waiting for my car to become more street-legal. I'd thought I was just there to have the oil changed - no, wait, that's not quite true. I had TOLD myself I was there for the oil change, for which my car was 1,000 miles late and a month early.
I had also told them that I had a wobble at midrange speeds and needed that to be investigated.
I already KNEW what they would find and I had done some research to find out what that was going to cost. You know, to psych myself up for the financial one-two sucker punch.
I already KNEW they would find that my tires needed to be replaced, that they had reached the end of their lifespan. That said, I knew the price tag for that would be about four hundred bucks. Oh, sure, the tires would be about sixty dollars, so you're thinking $240, plus tax, DONE.
No.
You see, there's the fee to dispose of each old tire.
There's the State Tire Impact Fee.
There's the fee for the valve stem so the tire can be inflated.
There's the fee to balance the tire before it's put on the car.
Oh, and there's the fee for the bits of metal to balance the tire.
Altogether, that's $4.00 + $1.00 + $4.99 + $7.00 + $2.99, or $19.98. Per tire.
Plus tax.
So, I KNEW I was going to buy new tires today and came prepared to do so. Mentally, at least. Thank God I have plastic to pay for it all.
I also KNEW they would find my car was out of alignment. I've known that ever since I ran over the deer.
Oh, didn't I tell you about that?
No?
Well, when I was driving from Pennsylvania to Virginia in July, I was tooling along, enjoying the blue sky and rolling highway and steady traffic flow, lah dee dah, lah dee dah. Then, as I topped a rise in the road, I saw it: a downed deer, straight in my path!!!
There was no time to maneuver around it into another lane. No time at 80 miles per hour.
So I steered the car to pass OVER it, trying to hit as little as possible. Hopin' and prayin' my car had enough clearance to pass over and not get lodged atop of the dead beast. Holding my breath and trying to levitate the car just a little bit, just enough to float over the animal...
And as quickly as I had come upon it, I'm past it. Whew! Relief!
I hadn't felt an impact from running over any part of it! Yeah!
But what was that awful smell???
Indeed. What WAS that awful smell? That smell of burned hair, burned flesh?
I had tried not to think about it, though it persisted for several days. But my car still ran, when I could get it started. So I had continued with my vacation, telling myself I would have it checked out when I returned home.
But I didn't.
Today, I found out the hook that holds the exhaust pipe in place had snagged a bit of deer hide. The hook had stayed in place, miraculously, rather than breaking off. But that hook had snugged that bit of animal flesh against that hot metal, too, releasing the horrid smell.
If you ask me, I was given a miracle that day. The entire episode could have been so much uglier.
So, back to today's events, yes?
Yes.
As I was saying, I knew today was going to cost me and was mentally ready for it and was even carrying an appropriate piece of plastic to absorb the financial hit.
At first, I'm sitting there, texting with my ex about my sorrows and commiserating with him about his. Then I finish with him and pick up the issue of "People" sitting on the table. It's a fairly bedraggled issue and is dated 24 June. Hey, at least it was for this year, right?
I was skimming through the contents, trying to find a tale or two to pass the time. Whoa... what's THAT? It was an amazing story of love from the ashes.
Literally.
Both of these people had been horribly burned.
He had been painting a church when he made near-fatal contact with a live wire, burning his face off. No exaggeration.
She had been texting while driving. Her car flipped over and burst into flames and she was trapped inside it for twenty minutes. She has no idea what the text was that had seemed more important than attention to the road.
They had met and fallen in love and were wed in March.
Incredible.
And there I've been, whining about my first-world problems, as the bfe calls them.
Waah.
That kind of story puts the world back into a better perspective, doesn't it?
So, now my tires have new bling and I'm safe to drive again.
I've had an hour-long texting session with my ex, with him starting it.
That was nice.
I've had a real-live talk with my first niece, with her starting it.
That was nice, too.
My bff checked on me this evening and had this message: "You're not broke, you're not starving, and you're not alone. Everything else is small stuff." She is SUCH a mom!
And that was very nice.
For dinner, I actually cooked something besides soup. A lot of onions, a bit of garlic, and some discounted filet mignon bought a few weeks ago and now rescued from my freezer. A bit of pasta with olive oil and some Mrs. Dash, too.
Very nice! I even used a real plate, too.
Later, I'll be joining some friends for a special Friday night edition of the improv show I now miss on Mondays. Actually, there will be TWO of the Odd Lot shows tonight, and one of them will be bLuE!!!
Tomorrow, I have a baby shower for a niece I haven't seen since her graduation from high school several years ago. She and her honey had moved to Tennessee, then to Mexico. I am very much looking forward to that!
Then more friends at movies and pool parties and dinner!
I think my pity party has been called on account of love.

all mine, my Precious

I hate feeling like I'm broke.
I most definitely AM broke. And I certainly dislike being broke.
But I truly hate feeling like I'm broke.
You get the distinction?
For the past few weeks, I find myself playing this little game. It's called "wanna go to a movie?" and it goes like this:
1) since I have a bit of time on my hands these days, I'll pull up the cinema schedules to see what's playing;
2) I select a movie with a near-future start time and allow myself to look forward to going to it;
3) I putz around on the computer or in the house until too late to actually GO to the movie (even taking into account the fifteen minutes of ads and previews beforehand);
4) I tell myself it's just as well that I missed it as I don't have the money anyway for such things;
5) depending on the time, wait a few hours or a day and play again.
It gets to be quite frustrating, as I know before I look at the schedules that I'm most likely NOT going to the movie.
It all ties in too nicely with this new pity party I've been having.

I've been working hard on this pity party for weeks. I really have.
Today, I decided to toss an invite to my bff and see if she would rsvp.
She did, of course.
That's what bffs do.
Especially since I'm the 'glass half-full' gal most of the time.

Here's my invite to her, just after eleven o'clock this morning:
me: Life is hard. really sux right now.

bff: For you? What's up?

me: My stepbrother is dying, the peace Guy is gone, the first niece lives across town, no one to hug, no health insurance, no money coming in, the bfe busy with tenure stuff. I could go on.

bff: ugh. Sounds like you need beach and tequila.

me: I think I need more than that. At least the folks in the Student Success Committee were glad to have me yesterday, even tho i wasn't allowed to Chair it anymore.

me: The faculty Senate made me vacate the position when they found i was part-time status. Ditched me by unsigned email. Bass turds.

bff: yeah, that was wrong. They don't know what they are missing.

me: That is EXACTLY what the folks on the StuSucCom said! too many people do committee work just to pad their resumes. that's bullshit to do that.

bff: You have just got a big heart...

bff: maybe it's time for you to start sleeping your way to the top... haha.

me: yeah. not gonna happen. Cannot even picture that act with the dean or dept head.

bff: Maybe you and I should move to Montana and become old-lady pole dancers!!!

me: that could definitely be fun. :-)

bff: Well sweetheart, hang in there. Life really sux sometimes.

me: Heard.

No, I didn;t tell her about my middle brother living in the woods in a tent and dining on goodies from grocery store dumpsters.
He actually dines better than I do much of the time, having fresh meat a-plenty versus the canned meat I usually buy.
Plus, she is already aware of that.

No, I didn't whine about the lethargy and ennui fogging my path daily. After all, I can usually fight my way clear when I have papers to grade.
Because she is aware of that, too.

No, I didn't harp on the mess my house is most of the time, piles of unfiled papers, dust on nearly every ledge, dead palmetto bugs upside-down on the sunroom floor.
She's seen it and she is not fazed. She has seen how quickly I can whip it into shape when given the incentive.

No, i didn't add that my car has extra shakes or my air conditionling has an intermittent problem or I still have a critter traipsing around in my attic.
She would just look at me and ask why I hadn't already taken care of these bits and pieces?
After all, she has heard of some of the issues for months and months...

And how would my rising debt be any news to her? Heck, I've always had credit card fever and lately I've let it ride. She's been down that road, too, and we both know how to deal with it. Mine is starting to feel a little out of control, hence the "wanna go to a movie?" game.

Tonight, I started playing the game again. And, as usual, I putzed around until almost too late to catch the movie. Almost, but not quite.
The ticket didn't cost me anything, either. I had a free pass for that cinema, a free pass that the peace Guy had laft for me to use when he moved to Jet City.
So, in a way, he paid for me to go see the movie. What a treat!
So I treated myself to popcorn and a soda.
And this particular movie was just what my doctor would have ordered for me, if she had been aware that I was feeling so overwhelmed by life in general and everything in particular.
Watching demons and evil vampires get returned to the dust from which they rose is pretty damn satisfying.
Almost as relaxing as killing zombies.
Now, I'm not quite right as rain, but I'm getting there.
And tomorrow my car has an appointment for a remedy.

tcb, y'all

TCB. The bfe likes to use that acronym and does so frequently. For those who don't know, it's taking care of business. The of is silent - or invisible, as it were.
Today, I've spent some time in tcb mode, but I don't know that many would grant me that.
This morning, after breakfast and blogging, I took out the trash. I had noticed a funky smell in the house and had finally tracked down its source last night. The bag of red potatoes I'd left on the cool kitchen floor had not weathered the loss of air conditioning on Friday. Some of the potatoes had become quite decrepit and disgusting. I had placed the bag in another bag and tied it off, then bundled that into yet another bag to prevent any leakage. Then I set it aside for this morning. After all, I was already in my nightgown when I found the bit of nastiness.
Then, as noon was fast approaching, I headed for the ball park for my boys of summer's last home game of the season. Hard to believe I'll have to wait for April of 2014 to see them again! I sat with Willie and Arthur, both almost as old as the historic stadium itself. I do hope they will be cheering alongside me in the spring!
The Gnats lost, but it was a tight game against Greenville. That's okay, the boys won the doubleheaders on both Friday and Saturday against this team. Losing the low-scoring, early afternoon games of yesterday and today was just a minor blip on their record and made for some good baseball for us to watch.
I came home, blogged a bit more, then decided I would grant my wishes of seeing a cheap movie and munching a bit of popcorn. Going to "Kick-Ass 2" at the Carmike around the corner granted both with a minimum expenditure of money. You see, the 4:00 to 5:30 PM matinees are only $5.50, so that saved me a few bucks. Plus, I have the magical popcorn bucket which refills for only $3.50. Wow! Big savings! So, I was even able to treat myself to a frozen Coca-Cola - super sweet, in every sense! And the movie was great fun, showing a very different Jim Carrey and boasting a positive message. Yeah!
After the movie, I felt refreshed! Time to do laundry! After all, I had one lonely pair of panties still clean and Nami's would be closed on Tuesday, as it always is. So, I dashed into the house, sorted the laundry, put dish detergent on the spots that needed to be out, grabbed some clothes hangers and off I flew!
But my beautiful laundrette was closed. On a Monday.
Well, this was no ordinary Monday, was it? No. It was Labor Day Monday.
Fine. I would use the alternate place I had scouted earlier this summer. I don't like it as much, mstly because she won't be there to talk to, but it's clean so it will do.
Or so I thought. This evening, it was fine when I first arrived, but became a madhouse by the time my load was done. So many others needing a Monday night wash, so many with small children! Arrrgh!
Still, it wouldn't have been such an ordeal if not for the phone calls received and made whilst there. The one received was to inform me that my stepbrother was back in the hospital again. He had barely a day at home before his heart became overtaxed from the tiny amount of oxygen it was receiving from his one partially working lung. I then called my eldest younger brother to let him and his family know.
Then, while making that call, my voicemail registered a missed call from the peace Guy. As he had been the one person I had wanted to call, I phoned him back while my clothes were drying to catch up on his day yesterday.
And the rain came.
No, literally. That's not a euphemism for me crying.
Well, not this time.
And, as my hangers had been strewn on the floor by a playing child while I was on the phone outside, due to no signal inside, I cut the call short. Then I gathered my clothes from the dryers, hung what needed hung, and threw the rest into the basket. Then I raced out of there and barely made it into the car before the rain started in earnest, replete with thunder and much glorious lightning.
It put my growing hissy fit into perspective and dwarfed it right out of existence.
I had a good chat with him about his book fair experience and his upcoming date for the evening and his early morning "one of us" meeting tomorrow. Then he went to tend to laundry and I took my laundry into the house.
Done.
I made tuna chowder for dinner, as I had all the ingredients: my milk, albacore tuna, olive oil, black pepper, and premium oyster crackers to top it all off. Yum!
And I've blogged some more, including this entry. The other entries are here, and here, and here. I guess I need to do a little better about blogging in a timely fashion, but... HEY! Life intrudes!
And this is MY blog.
If you don't like the way I do things, grow some blog of your own (to paraphrase Sir Elton John).
Peace, out, y'all.

i am Superman and i can do anything

The following is the transcript of a conversation which began on August 26 at 8:43pm.
*** *** ***
The peace Guy worte on fb: not quite sure what to think about this one. bald people have a certain attraction to me. i wonder if there's any research in that direction.

The Truth About Hair and Why Indians Would Keep Their Hair Long --

(The gist of the article is this: when trackers cut their hair to conform to military regulations, they lost their ability to sense the enemy. Completely.)

me: Baldness is linked to high testosterone levels, that's for sure. As for the 'long hair' article, that's quite believable. We are, after all, just another animal and there are plenty that use their head hair (think cat's whiskers) as sensors.

peace Guy: so when my hair reaches 10 inches and gets cut off for locks of love, am i going to lose my power like samson?

me: No, dear, unless said power is something you sense with the tips of your hair... oh, i guess that may be true, then and you will lose your ability to sense high humidity in the air!

peace Guy: i'm a whizz at sensing humidity with my hair!

me: True dat! But I don't think that's a qualifying super power... yet!
*** *** ***

I sure miss conversations like this in person, across my dining room table in the morning or late at night in the living room.
I miss him.
I know he is in a good place, with a good job and good folks around him.
But I still wish he were here.
Selfish of me, I know.
Such knowledge does not assuage my lonely heart and head.